Dragon's Crest
by Solarwind Starfire
Summary: *Chapter 5 up* Join Bahamut and friends as they travel the world of Impiana to find the legendary Dragon's Crest, and maybe save the world in the process. FF Original, whatever that oxymoron means.
1. The Prolouge

A/N: **ATTENTION**: Chapters 1 & 2 reuploaded as one chapter. Little bit tacked on at the end. ^.^   
_Disclaimer: I don't own all Final Fantasy references, i.e. Summoned Monsters, normal monsters, monstrous monsters called bosses, non-monster creatures, spells, etc. I do, however, own my personal Cid, even if I don't own his name, and Impiana, World of Dreams, and all other original characters within. Final Fantasy characters were borrowed for my (and my readers', if any) entertainment. I'm not making any money out of this, nor do I own anything of value, so don't sue me._

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**Final Fantasy - Dragon's Crest**   
_1 - The Prolouge_

_At first, the Dragon's Crest was merely a symbol of power, passed down from each king to his heir. But when the peoples of the Worlds learnt to harness the power of Magic, the Crest was enchanted, imbued with the power to control the Dragons of the Worlds. Stolen away from the Dragons, incessant wars were fought by power-hungry kingdoms over this artifact. Until, one day, the Crest disappeared. Vanished, from the deepest vaults of the greatest fortress in the Sixth World. _

For a thousand years of relative peace, broken only by the odd megalomaniac, the Dragon's Crest was in the keeping of Bahamut, the current King of the Dragons, and the Lord of the Guardians. But the Crest has been stolen by Tiamat, Queen of the Dark Dragons, second in command of the greatest evil the Worlds have ever known, Chaos, Demon King, and his army of fiends. If they should master the Crest, there is no telling what may happen to the civilizations of the Worlds…. 

***

The man strode resolutely to the gateway, determination etched on every line of his face. At first glance, the man, with his fine, handsome features, flowing hair like spun gold and well-made clothes, may have passed as any young, human noble. But on closer scrutiny, the man appeared ageless; an aura of power, unsettling, though not frightening, seemed to radiate from him. Wisdom and intelligence were reflected in his clear, forest green eyes. A large pack was slung from his shoulders, and a sword hung at his side. 

At the sight of the two also apparently human figures standing in the gateway, the man stopped and sighed, torn between amusement and annoyance. One of the figures was obviously male, tall and muscular, with a rugged face and an unruly shock of auburn hair. He wore a reddish-brown vest, loose baggy, pale brown pants and black boots. A pair of bronze armlets decorated his forearms and a single gold hoop earring was pierced into the edge of his right ear. 

The other was a slim, graceful woman. Apart from her fair, rosy skin, almost everything about her was blue. Her waist-length dark blue hair had been brushed straight back from her face, and styled into an elaborate braid, fastened with a band of gold. She wore a long, sleeveless powder-blue dress, gathered at the waist with a pale purple sash. A midnight blue traveler's cloak was draped over one arm. In the other, she held her tasseled rod of mythril. Her pale blue eyes, like the sea reflected in a glacier, were fixed on him. 

"Shiva, Ifrit, what are you two doing here?" sighed Bahamut. After his explicit orders, he had not expected anyone to come after him. 

"We're coming with you," said Ifrit. Normally, the Fire Guardian would have appeared as a fire demon, hairy, lionlike and horned. Now, he had taken the form of a human, much like Bahamut himself. 

"No." 

"No? Just no?" asked Shiva, arching an eyebrow. Like Ifrit, the Ice Guardian had also taken human form, although the only difference was her skin colour. And her ears were a little less pointy. 

"Yes. I mean, no. I can't let you come along," replied Bahamut. 

"You've got to give us a better reason than 'no' if you expect us to let you go out and get your crest back on your own, milord," said Shiva coolly. "Ifrit here and I don't agree on much, but we do agree that you're not going alone." 

Inwardly, Bahamut sighed again. Shiva and Ifrit, among the most experienced of the Guardians, a race of mystical beings sworn to protect the Worlds and their people, were fast friends of his. He knew, all right, that they would try something like this. But he couldn't let them come along. The danger involved in challenging Tiamat was great. And outside the Guardians' Plane, the Guardians lost almost all power, forcing them to take the form of a human. The only exception was if they were Summoned, magically pulled from the Guardians' Plane by the people known as Summoners to aid them in battle. And even that only lasted a couple of minutes before they had to retreat to their plane. He himself might not return. He could not put his friends in this danger. 

"You can't," he tried. "While I'm gone, _someone_ has to handle the business at the castle." 

"Isn't that the excuse you used to make Phoenix stay behind?" asked Ifrit, with an expression very similar to Shiva's. Bahamut looked at his toes. Phoenix… she would worry. But more so than Shiva and Ifrit, he could not let his beloved wife come along. Besides… 

"She was _pregnant_," said Bahamut flatly, raising his head to meet Ifrit's gaze. "Do you two even know the danger…" 

"…Involved? That's exactly why we're coming along!" said Shiva and Ifrit in perfect unison, then blinked and glared at the other. 

"Look, Bahamut, remember all those groups of heroes we've helped? At least three groups of 'em have kicked Tiamat's ass before," said Ifrit. 

"And the word here is group, Bahamut. They couldn't have done it alone. What we're saying is, you'll have a better chance if we go in a group, mystical Guardian's Powers or not," continued Shiva. Bahamut blinked. 

"…You rehearsed this, didn't you?" asked Bahamut suspiciously. Shiva and Ifrit almost never agreed. This would be the first recorded case of one finishing the other's sentence. Shiva laughed. 

"It was Phoenix's idea. No, wait," she said, as Bahamut began to open his mouth. "We would've come after you anyway. Um, and since I specialize in Black Magic and Ifrit specializes in… brawn over brain," Ifrit gave her a deadly glare at this, "Phoenix is sending a healer along," she continued, ignoring Ifrit's stare, instead staring at something over Bahamut's shoulder. 

Bahamut frowned and turned. The object of Shiva's attention was a girl who looked to be in her teens, running towards them. Her hair, flying wildly as she ran, was a soft shade of green, cut in a layered style. Bangs were kept off her face by a white bandanna. She wore a pink tunic-style dress that came down to her knees over a white shirt, and scuffed, brown boots. Her eyes were large and sapphire blue. A backpack that was slung over one shoulder swung to and fro dangerously, threatening to give anyone that came too close a very painful bruise. 

"Carbuncle?!" asked Bahamut incredulously. Of all the Guardians… Carbuncle wasn't exactly the most powerful. Playful and mischievous, she wouldn't have been Bahamut's first choice. She was a skilled White Mage, talented in the defensive magics, however. Perhaps her talent for defence was why Phoenix had chosen her. 

"I'msosorryI'mlate," panted Carbuncle as she skidded to a halt. "Lord Bahamut? Lady Phoenix says I'm to go along with you," she said cheerfully. "Oh, and she asked me to give this to you," she said, pulling a pouch from her belt. 

"Thank you," said Bahamut, taking the pouch and opening it. Inside were red feathers, long, silky and tipped with gold. He smiled. Phoenix Pinions. She was so considerate. The Guardians were obviously incapable of summoning each other, but Phoenix Pinions, wing feathers from the legendary birds of that species, when used, would call the previous owner of the crimson plumage to the user's aid. These were the Guardian Phoenix, Bahamut's wife's own feathers. 

Ifrit cleared his throat, bringing Bahamut out of his reverie. "Shall we get going?" he asked, rather pointedly. Bahamut nodded and fastened the pouch to his own belt. Shiva and Ifrit lifted the backpacks that had sat by their feet. Without a further word, the party of four left for the Pintu Grove. 

Eidolon Castle, so named for an ancient word for 'spirit' as well as the name the Summoners of the Ninth World had given the Guardians, was soon left behind them. Ahead lay Pintu Grove, a collection of interdimensional gateways, created by Atomos and Diablos, surrounded by a dense ring of fir trees. As they approached, the portals, vertical pools of swirling colour, sprang to life. Strange, beautiful melodies came from each. 

"Which one are we taking, milord?" asked Carbuncle curiously. Bahamut closed his eyes and concentrated. The trace of the Crest's power…he could feel it, even through the void of extradimensional space. That one… no, that one. Bahamut opened his eyes. 

"This one," he said, gesturing to a portal that swirled blue, purple, then orange. "Carbuncle?" 

"Yes?" 

"Don't call me 'milord' or by my title. We don't need to look suspicious." 

"Yes, …uh… Bahamut." 

As the Guardians stepped through the portal, the melody soared until it eclipsed the song of the others. When it had died down, the gateways had closed, leaving Pintu Grove as empty and silent as it had been before. 

*** 

Whirls of colour. Darkness and light. Images that flashed into view for an instant, before being left far behind. It seemed as though she were on a moving pathway that moved at the speed of light. Bubbles, each seeming to contain a great castle, a city of glass, a flowery meadow, lined the Astral Path. Carbuncle, for all her dimension-hopping experience, felt awed by the beauty of it all. Each was a window into a different place, whether within the same dimension or not, she did not know. Then their destination loomed ahead. Carbuncle's mind had just barely registered the image of a green, grassy glade before she was thrown straight into it. 

"Ow! Get off me, you big oaf!" yelled Shiva. Being thrown out of a portal isn't fun, especially if you're in a group. You tend to end up in a tangled heap. As it was, Shiva had ended up on the bottom, Ifrit right on top and Carbuncle flung against both their sides with the tasseled end of Shiva's rod jabbing her in the ribs. Bahamut had been thrown clear, right into a clump of shrubbery. 

"I'm trying!" yelled back Ifrit, rolling off and getting jabbed on the bottom end of the hollow mythril rod for his pains. "Damnit, woman, that rod _hurts_!" 

"That's because it's a _weapon_," muttered Shiva, getting up and brushing herself off. "Some of us don't rely on fists and pure muscle power." 

"Was that a compliment?" asked Ifrit with a cheeky grin, seated on the ground and rubbing his bruised side. 

"Gah, never mind," Shiva muttered, throwing her arms up. She pulled her rod from under Ifrit and considered smacking him over the head with it, but thought the better of it. 

"Where's my bandanna?" asked Carbuncle absently, hunting around the glade with a hand over her forehead. 

"Why'd you need it?" asked Shiva. Her eyes widened. "Don't tell me you still have the gem there…." 

Carbuncle nodded miserably and dropped her hand. A scarlet gem, glowing softly with a reddish light, was set in her forehead, contrasting with her pale bluish green hair. "Can't seem to get rid of it when I transform." 

Shiva bit her lip. "You can't let anyone see that…." 

"Whose would this be?" came a muffled voice from a bush. An arm in a purple sleeve poked out of the bush, clutching a white bandanna. 

"Mine!" yelled Carbuncle, running to the bush and giving the arm a good pull. Covered in leaves and scratches, Bahamut came tumbling out. 

"Thank you," he mumbled from his undignified position on the ground, passing the bandanna to Carbuncle, who gratefully tied it securely around her forehead, hiding the gem. 

By the time they had collected themselves and their packs, which had done their very best to land in unfortunate positions, such as hanging on a very high branch or sitting on a rock right in the middle of a nearby stream, the sun had progressed from the eastern horizon to its zenith. 

"Right. Now, who knows this world, and where's the nearest town?" asked Bahamut, overly cheerfully. The other three stared at him. 

"You don't know this world?" asked Shiva incredulously. "I thought you'd been _everywhere_! And you actually expected to find Tiamat? _On your own?_" The mage looked just about ready to pummel him with her rod, king or no. Ifrit cracked his knuckles, looking much the same. Carbuncle had the makings of a Cure spell gathering in her cupped hands. "Just in case you need it," she said cheerfully, glaring daggers at him at the same time. 

Bahamut held up his hands. "I'm kidding! We're on Impiana, the World of Dreams." 

"World of …Dreams?" Carbuncle echoed. "Like in what we experience when we sleep? Is this place illusory?" 

Bahamut shook his head. "No. Dreams… as in fantasies," he said quietly. "I've been here before with Atomos," he continued, more cheerfully. There's a mage city, Syhir, downstream." 

"Then let's get moving!" bellowed Ifrit, taking off downstream at a quick jog. The rest of them shrugged and followed. 

_Welcome to Impiana, World of Dreams. Obligatory Chocobos, Moogles and Cid included. Ditzy damsels-in-distress and spoony bards are extra. _

*~*~*~*~*~*~* 

_A/N: Please review if you've enjoyed this 'fic. In fact, review even if you hate it, so I'll know where I've gone wrong. ^.^ Be constructive, please. Flames will be used to amplify Firaga and tossed back._


	2. City Under Attack

_Disclaimer: See Chapter 1. =P_

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_2 - City Under Attack_

Syhir, City of Magic, was a collection of gothic stone mansions, impressive towers, small castles, (you can't fit more than one full-sized one in a city) and of course, mages. Of all species and magic classes, too. Including Moogle Black Mages, as Bahamut found out first hand. Moogles might be the smallest of the World's sentient species, but there was no surer way to end up on your back than have one fly, even at Moogle top speed, into your face. 

"Watch it, kupo!" the chubby, cat-like creature yelled irately, shaking a fist at the dazed dragon lord. Ifrit and Shiva helped him up, each taking one arm. 

"Moogles fly that fast? And that far?" asked Carbuncle, watching the small, white-furred creature fly off on its stubby bat wings, the tip of its floppy brimmed Black Mages' hat flapping wildly. 

"Only when scared," said Shiva slowly, staring after the Moogle. 

"Uh, guys," called Ifrit, "Don't look now, but there's a stampede heading straight for us…" 

...

Standing in the path of a stampede is stupid and suicidal. Standing _over_ the path of the stampede, however, only looks stupid. _Over_ the stampede, as in floating ten feet up in the air, courtesy of Carbuncle's spell of levitation. 

"What is going on here?" demanded Bahamut of a passing phoenix. 

"Monsters! Attacking! City centre! Run, run!" it sang, wriggling itself free of Bahamut's grip. It fled, leaving a trail of flaming light in its wake. Bahamut rolled his eyes. 

"A city full of mages and they can't handle a bunch of monsters. Let's go take a look," he sighed. 

...

Most sane beings would've considered what a whole city of mages couldn't handle way too much for them, and joined in the fleeing crowds. Most sane beings, of course, hadn't been around for a few thousand years, and found monster attacks to be overrated and consisting mainly of mass hysteria. 

In this case, however, the hysteria was fully justified. No less than ten Flame Dragons were dive-bombing the High Tower (affectionately known to the townspeople as the Extra Tall City Hall, of all stupid names). A ring of Black and Red Mages had gathered at the foot of the tower, casting Blizzagas and double Blizzaras in an attempt to drive off the fire-breathing, airborne reptiles. It didn't work. The mid-level and high-level ice spells were simply shrugged off by the dragons, as if they were no more than single snowflakes. 

"Dragons…" breathed Bahamut, his green eyes narrowing dangerously. His steps slowed. Shiva and Carbuncle ran ahead, adding their spells to the arsenal of the ring of mages. Ifrit followed, but at a slower pace, knowing that his fire spells would be useless against the fire-elemental dragons. Bahamut closed his eyes and concentrated. A golden aura surrounded his body. If anyone had been watching, they would have seen what looked like a human shrinking and a dragon expanding in the same space. 

_"Stop!"_ roared Bahamut in Dragonspeak. The dragons froze in midair. The mages spun around at the voice and froze at the sight of the regal, midnight-blue dragon. One let out a squeak. The tiny sound brought the mages back to their senses. Bahamut found himself looking at several dozen soon-to-be-cast Flares. 

"Wait!" yelled Shiva. "That's-" 

"-Bahamut! The king of the Dragons!" finished another voice, equally loudly. The almost-cast spells dissipated. For the first time, Bahamut noticed the young man in green Summoners' robes, worn open like a coat over a plain beige shirt and slacks, standing in the midst of the mages. He was staring at the double-winged dragon with openmouthed awe. 

Bahamut took advantage of the momentary pin-drop silence. _"Why dost thou attack the humans?" _

"'Tis the command of milady Tiamat," roared one of the Flame Dragons in reply. _"We dare not disobey, so long as the Crest of Dragons be in her possession."_

Bahamut's eyes flared bright green. The Flame Dragon gulped at the sign of displeasure. _"Leave,"_ commanded Bahamut. 

The Flame Dragon struggled against the desire to obey the dragon king's order and the subconscious urge to resume the attack. The suicidal option won. _"We cannot,"_ it stated, lowering his eyes. It turned towards its pack. _"Resume attack!"_ he roared. This time, the slightly charred tower wasn't the only target. The dragons attempted flaming the mages too. 

Bahamut felt his power waning. Outside his world, he couldn't retain his true form or power for long, forcing him to take the much weaker form of a human. But maybe he could still get off a Mega Flare. He prayed hard that he wouldn't put himself in a week-long coma and flew into the air. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Shiva whispering to Carbuncle. The younger Guardian nodded and made a few quick gestures. Shiva turned transparent in a flash of light, then disappeared. In the chaos born of panicking mages down below, no one noticed. 

Bahamut gathered energy for the laser flare attack. Shiva beat him to it. A huge ice crystal, suspended in midair, appeared directly in front of him. Shiva, in all her blue-skinned glory, burst from within, shattering the crystal into tiny shards, like glittering, icy dust. Diamond dust. She swept her outspread arms to the front, bringing with them the ice shards. She raised her arms over her head. 

"Diamond Dust!" she cried, swinging her arms down sharply, blasting the dragons with a blizzard of ice shards. The lead dragon screamed in pain, writhing in midair. It stared at Bahamut with wild eyes. 

_"Leave,"_ he repeated. _"If I catch thee attacking the cities again…"_ he trailed off menacingly. The dragons obliged him enthusiastically. So enthusiastically, in fact, that they did so with a speed rarely seen, except in the latest jet-powered airships and terrified Moogles. 

Bahamut watched them until they were no more than black specks on the horizon. Then he dropped to the ground, reverted to his human form and dropped to the ground again, wherupon he promptly passed out. 

*~*~*~*~*~*~* 

_A/N: Gah, homework, homework and more homework. At this rate, I'll finish this sometime in the next decade. >.Oh, I just thought this needs some clarification. Phoenix, with a capital P, refers to the Guardian Phoenix, as in the Summoned Monster/Esper/Guardian Force/Eidolon/whatever. Phoenix with a small P, as in phoenix, refers to any other member of the race of legendary birds, as well as the species itself.   
Any Olde English in Italics will be Dragonspeak. Not to be confused with Cyan of FF6 screaming.   
Oh, and as usual, please review. Flames will be used to boost Ifrit's Hell Fire the next time I summon him. ^.~_


	3. Look, Ma, We're Saving The World

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1. =P 

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_3 - Look, Ma, We're Saving The World_

It was midmorning when Bahamut finally woke up in familiar yet strange surroundings. This may seem strange until you realise that most inns look the same from the inside. Four beds to a room, wooden strip flooring, whitewashed stone walls. After getting up, stretching and making a few wrong turns, mainly due to a migraine-induced mental haze, he wandered sleepily into the common room of the Wanderer's Inn. Carbuncle looked up from her book. 

"Oh, you're finally up!" she said cheerfully. "I think you broke some sort of record. Twenty minutes in your true form and only out cold for two days." Bahamut sank into the cushions of a large armchair. 

"Yeah, but I didn't cast Mega Flare," he muttered, rubbing his eyes. He looked straight at her. "Carbuncle. They know who I am now, don't they?" 

Carbuncle gave him a helpless look. "Um…." 

"We have an appointment with the city's High Council!" announced Shiva, stalking into the room. "Good, you're awake," she said, eyeing Bahamut. "I was afraid that I'd have to drop a few ice cubes down your back to wake you up." 

*** 

Ifrit plucked at his jacket. Magic wasn't really his area of expertise, notwithstanding the fact that he was mainly made out of the stuff. Throwing fireballs and the occasional Firaga was second nature (or perhaps first, since he was a Fire Guardian). But try to get him to cast the basic Thunder or Venom and he was completely lost. This hadn't stopped Shiva from forcing him into a formal Black Mage's costume. He thought that the striped, baggy pants were ridiculous, and the cape just clashed with the dark blue jacket. And how could they even _see_ from under that silly steepled hat? 

He wasn't the only one either. Just in front of him, Carbuncle was equally uncomfortable, holding up the hem of her flowing white-and-red robes with one hand as she struggled to catch up with Shiva and Bahamut without tripping over her skirt. The other hand was being utilized in an unsuccessful, one-handed attempt to fasten her cloak with a pin. Ifrit wondered how Shiva had managed to force them all into the formal mages' attire. Come to think of it, she was even better at getting people to do things than Bahamut was, sometimes, even if it was by threatening them with an Ultima spell. He liked that. 

Shiva herself was in the formal attire of a female Black Mage; dark blue robes instead of the jacket and pants the male Black Mages wore. However, although technically a Red Mage, Bahamut wore the green robes of a Summoner. 

"I can't believe you actually summoned Bahamut!" chattered their guide, the Summoner boy, while leading them up stairways and through long corridors. "I mean, no one's been granted the Dragon King's favour in two hundred years!" 

"That long, huh?" mumbled Bahamut, half to himself. He couldn't believe they actually thought he was a Summoner. Some of the Guardians _did_ whisk their Summoners away before commencing their attacks (being accidentally in the way of say, Odin's Zantetsuken was more than hazardous to one's health), but still.... Better that than they knew who he really was, though. That would put a serious kink into his plans. 

"Yeah," replied the Summoner. "Hey, by the way, what's your name? I'm Cid. Cid Velorii." 

"I'm...Draco," said Bahamut, thinking quickly. Cid, huh? Nothing unusual, really. Cid happened to be a very popular name in all the Worlds. If you wanted your kid to be an airship engineer, name him Cid. If you wanted your kid to be a scientist, name him Cid. On the other hand, if you wanted him to be a hero, name him after any natural phenomena._*_

"Oh. Dragon. Kind of fitting for the first Summoner to gain Bahamut's favour in the last couple of centuries, eh?" 

Bahamut grimaced. "Maybe," he answered. 

"So, what else can you summon?" asked Cid cheerfully. "I've gotten up to the second level, otherworldly elemental summons and all that. Shiva's given me the ability to call her, but she almost didn't show up the other day. Took me two hours to summon her," he continued, not waiting for an answer. Bahamut rubbed his forehead. The kid's chatter was just making his headache worse. Maybe he should just ask him to shut up. Yes, that was what he would do. 

"- " That was as far as Bahamut got before Cid started yattering again. 

"And that was the last time _anyone_ was able to summon anything besides Chocobos and the Sylphs," Cid sighed. 

Bahamut stopped dead in his tracks. "_What?!_" 

"I said, no one's been able to summon anything besides big yellow mutant chickens and little green wind fairies for the last two days!" said Cid, a little louder than necessary. "Not us students, not our Summoning mistress, not even the Summoners of Kholm Valley. We sent a messenger Chocobo to ask," he added. He noticed the four staring at him. "I'm sorry," he said sheepishly. "I'm just worried. Nothing like this has ever happened. Did the Summoned Monsters go on strike because we offended them or something?" 

"Maybe everyone went on vacation at once," suggested Carbuncle quietly. Shiva flashed her a warning look. She made a face at Shiva in return, but kept quiet. 

"Really?" asked Cid. "Do they work regular hours, get leave, retire, that sort of thing?" 

Bahamut stared thoughtfully at Carbuncle. The Chocobos and Sylphs the Summoners called on were generally not Guardians but merely nearby creatures that had answered the call, although the Guardian Chocobo, a gigantic avian with the unfortunate but apt name of Fat Chocobo, occasionally showed up... ten metres over the target and subject to the law of gravity. 

Summoning was basically putting out a magical call, slightly different for each Guardian, and hoping that whatever you called would show up. Guardians were normally pulled to the Summoner by a summoning spell, although the more powerful of them, like Bahamut, Leviathan and Asura, could resist and wouldn't appear unless the Summoner had gained their favour. Phoenix too could resist but never did; any Summoner that needed her help was probably in very deep trouble. Most of the Guardians, however, couldn't resist a call from a Summoner. The only way was if the call couldn't reach them.... 

"Ah, here we are, the Grand Hall," announced Cid, breaking Bahamut's train of thought. They were before a pair of great wooden doors, elaborately carved. A pair of apprentices opened the doors. 

"The Council will see you now," announced the apprentice White Mage, looking extremely self-conscious. Bahamut didn't blame her; he'd feel self-conscious too if he had to wear that silly cat-eared hood that was the mark of her apprenticeship. He nodded at her and entered the hall, Shiva, Ifrit and Carbuncle in tow. 

The room was, well, your typical audience hall for any powerful council. Seats in a semicircle facing the door and all that. Equally typically, the most important member was seated at the middle point, furthest from the door but facing it. The sage was white-haired, wrinkly, balding, and had eyebrows bushier than his wispy beard. Aged he may be, but the twinkle in the old sage's eyes betrayed the life still left in him. This was no senile old geezer. 

"Let me offer you a belated welcome to our fair city, travelers, and of course, my thanks for your help in defending our High Tower. I am Thelonius Arc, Head of the High Council of Syhir," the sage greeted gravely. Bahamut inclined his head slightly in acknowledgement. 

"I thank you for your welcome, Elder," he replied. "These are my companions, the Black Mages... Frostwand Theurgy and... Garreth Pyrus..." 

Shiva winced. "When did he swallow a thesaurus?" muttered Ifrit under his breath. 

"...And the White Mage-" 

"I'm Emerald," interrupted Carbuncle quickly. 

"-Emerald Meliora," continued Bahamut without missing a beat. "Now let me get to the point. What did you want to see my companions and I for?" 

"Rather blunt today, isn't he?" murmured Shiva under her breath. 

"Like a well-worn behemoth bone club," agreed Ifrit. 

Elder Arc laughed heartily. "You're the first person I've met in a long time who hasn't spent half an hour on meaningless civilities," he chuckled. "All right. Summoner- ah, what did you say your name was?" 

"Draco," said Bahamut firmly. Oh well, it was as good a name as any other. 

Elder Arc waited for him to continue. When he didn't, he raised an eyebrow and continued. "Summoner Draco, I believe that you are the first Summoner in two hundred years who can summon Bahamut." 

"Cid- Summoner Velorii told me already," snapped Bahamut impatiently. He was definitely irritable today. It probably had something to do with the little hammers pounding away at the inside of his skull. 

"You don't seem to have been aware of the fact." The other eyebrow was in the air now. 

"I- he didn't mention it." Inwardly, he cursed the difference in the time stream between the Worlds. He made a mental note to grant the ability to summon himself to somebody before going home. 

Elder Arc's eyebrows inched higher. "I'll just assume you're from some remote village where news doesn't reach fast, shall I?" He glanced at the other three, still standing near the door, who had feigned an air of nonchalance. At least, the two Black Mages were; the White Mage was shaking slightly, struggling to keep her face straight. 

Bahamut folded his arms. "That may be best." Somewhere under the crankiness, he realised that he was starting to remind himself of a certain young man whose head he had to share once. 

"The last Summoner to gain the Dragon King's favour was a woman from Kholm Valley-" 

"Whatever," Bahamut cut him off. Oh, he was _really_ starting to remind himself of that kid now. And it was only for a couple of weeks- Ifrit had it worse, sharing the head of some hyper martial artist for months. He had ended up backflipping down the halls of the castle every morning for ages. That still wasn't _that_ bad. Quezacotl had shared the head of that particular antisocial boy for _years_. He still replied 'Whatever' every other time anyone spoke to him and avoided parties like the plague. And _they_ worried about memory loss. The Guardians had to worry about idiosyncrasy gain. "Get to the point," he growled. 

Elder Arc sighed. Wonderfully uncooperative and rude people depressed him. "Right. Dragons have been launching hit-and-run attacks on all major cities for weeks, somebody managed to capture a dragon in the north, it claimed to be acting under Tiamat, the Dark Dragon Queen's orders, everyone knows that no Greater Dragon takes orders from Tiamat - that is, until recently, so," he paused to catch his breath, "we need to know why the Greater Dragons have switched allegiance to Tiamat from Bahamut and you're the only one who can call Bahamut. Now, is there anything you'd like to share, Summoner Draco?" 

Bahamut's eyes narrowed. Tiamat moved fast, it seemed. She had used the Crest straight away to gain the allegiance of Impiana's dragons. If he didn't stop her before she unleashed its full potential on the other Worlds, civilization as the Worlds knew it was finished. With the dragons behind them, she and Chaos, ruler of the forces of darkness, could conquer the Worlds and turn them into their personal playgrounds. And Chaos had a strange grasp on the concept of 'fun'. Doubtlessly, once Chaos needed the dragons no more, they'd suffer the same fate as the populace of the rest of the Worlds. 

He had to admit, there _was_ a personal side to it. Bahamut was the rightful king of the dragons. He wasn't about to sit back and let some upstart usurp his position. He let his breath out slowly. "Yes. Tiamat has the Dragon's Crest." 

The Elder frowned. "Isn't the Dragon's Crest just a fairytale?" 

"It isn't," replied Bahamut. "She somehow stole it from right under Bahamut's snout," he said darkly. For some reason, no one had noticed its absence for a week, perhaps more. 

For the first time, someone in the council's seats spoke. "I see. That would explain the sudden inability to Summon, wouldn't it?" She stood up, pushing back the hood of her green robes to reveal a small, short, ivory horn, growing just above her hairline. She was of about middle age. Her eyes were two dark, stony pools and lines graced her forehead and the edge of her thin, straight-lipped mouth. "Bahamut must have the Summoned Monsters combing the Worlds for the Crest." 

If _that_ was what was stopping the Summoning, Bahamut was going to be very, very displeased indeed. 

"I very much doubt that," he said. "In fact, the reason my friends and I are travelling is because Bahamut has asked my help in locating the Crest. He believes it is located on this world." It _was_ true. After a certain fashion. 

The Summoning Mistress looked impressed. "You must be gifted indeed, Summoner... Draco," she said. 

Elder Arc stroked his beard thoughtfully. In that case, let Syhir offer what help she can," he offered. "We have quite a store of enchanted weapons and armour." 

"Thank you, but I don't think that is necessary," he said. The four Guardians' weapons had been forged by Hades. No mortal blacksmith could hope to rival the Legendary Synthesist's skill at weaponmaking. Armour would just slow them down; plus, Carbuncle's spells could nullify almost any attacks. 

The Elder nodded. "If you're sure. God speed you on your quest then, and Guardians protect you." 

"Thank you, Elder," Bahamut said, bowing. He stepped backwards to the door in an age-old gesture of respect, then turned and pulled it open. To his surprise, he found Cid lying on the floor next to his boots immediately thereafter. 

"_Cid Velorii!_" said the Summoning Mistress sharply. "Were you eavesdropping?" 

The young Summoner turned red in embarrassment. "I was... uh... just leaning... on... the...uh, door?" His excuses withered away under her hard stare. 

The Elder had a sudden brainwave. "Summoner Draco, let me offer the help of this young man on your quest." He glanced at the Summoning Mistress. 

"I would be honored if you would accept the help of my student," said the Summoning Mistress, ignoring Cid. 

"No!" howled Cid. 

"Be quiet, Summoner Velorii," hissed the Summoning Mistress. "I am sure that his... shall we say, inquisitiveness will prove useful in gathering information on your quest." 

"No it won't! yelled Cid, desperately. "I'm sure anyone can listen at doorways!" 

"Shut _up_, Cid," snapped the Elder. "So, are you taking him or not?" He stared at Bahamut expectantly. The Summoning Mistress turned her intense stare on him. 

Bahamut had faced down the Worlds' most horrible monsters. He had fought the Fiends and won. He had even dared to break up one of Shiva and Ifrit's infamous little fights, and gotten away with his hide intact. But somehow, that flinty stare intimidated him. Perhaps it was the headache. Perhaps it was the fact that he was now in an infinitely weaker human form. Perhaps it was something else, or all of the above. 

"I, ah, okay," said Bahamut weakly. 

"_WHAT?!_ I really won't get a say in this, will I?" sighed Cid. 

"No. You won't." 

*** 

Footnote:   
*Cloud. Squall. Tidus looks suspiciously like Tide-us. Need I say more? 

*~*~*~*~*~*~* 

_A/N: Whoa! Look at the delay! It wasn't **all** my fault, I swear. Between homework, foot drill practise, homework, missing files and homework, I'm amazed this got done at all.   
Um, right. Here's the obligatory review fishing - Please, please, please, please, review. Please? Oh, and flames will be reflected off Carbuncle's Ruby Light. _^.~

Many thanks go to my pal Bad Faith for beta reading for me. Thank you thank you thank you! ^_^_ Check out her 'fics sometime. She's a great author. _


	4. Ahead On Our Way

_4 - Ahead On Our Way_

_Journal Entry 5, Local Date 15th of Tetra, 1306. _

8.00 a.m.   
Left Syhir. Travelling under the pseudonym of Frostwand Theurgy, no thanks to Bahamut ('Draco'). Others have equally thesaurus-like names. Carbuncle is thinking up a very embarrasing surname to spring on our esteemed leader at an inconvenient moment.   
Travelling to northern city of Snowfields. Bahamut wants to question dragon captured there. May be killed by the time we get there, since it was caught weeks ago. Have to try anyway.   
Kid by name of Cid travelling with us. Syhir Council practically pushed him on us. In fact, they seemed happy to get rid of him. Can see why, been pestering Bahamut since we left the inn. Can't seem to work up any sympathy for dragon-boy today. 

*** 

"So, tell me, Draco," said Cid, cheerfully, "where are you from?" This was about the nine thousandth, three hundredth and fifty-first question he had asked in the last one and three quarters of an hour since they had left Syhir. Cid had graduated from important questions (Where exactly are we going?) and actually contributing useful nuggets of information (Snowfields? We'll have to cross the Tangga Syurga mountain range) to inanity and trying to make small talk. As it was, Shiva was just glad that it wasn't her. 

"The Land of the Summoned Monsters," replied 'Draco' in a flat tone. 

"...Riiight. So, are you married? Have a family?" asked Cid, undaunted. 

"Yes," said Bahamut in the same flat tone. 

"So what's your wife's name?" 

"Phoenix. As in the Guardian Phoenix." 

"...Are you going to tell me next that you're really Bahamut?" 

"Yes." 

"...You're not serious, are you?" 

Bahamut stopped and faced Cid. "As a matter of fact, Cid, I _am_ serious." 

"Are you _crazy_?" whispered Shiva furiously, slipping behind Bahamut. 

"The kid will find out sooner or later, Shiva. Better now than he freak out in a serious fight." Bahamut didn't even bother whispering. 

Cid's eyes had gone wider than a pair of dinner plates. "...Did you call her Shiva? As in the Guardian of Ice?" 

Bahamut and Shiva looked at each other. "I think we have some serious explaining to do, milord," said Shiva dryly. 

*** 

_8.30 a.m. _

Cid seems to be taking it better than I expected. He hasn't fainted at least, although his eyes **were** threatening to bulge out of his head. He's being unusually quiet now, thank the Crystals of Light and Darkness and whatever other powers there be that govern the Worlds of Fantasy. He does seem to be unusually polite and respectful to all of us. Funny, he never struck me as the type. 

*** 

The forest path was quiet, but for the happy sounds of singing birds and rustling bushes. _Rustling bushes?_ Shiva narrowed her eyes and sneaked over, trying to peer in. She wasn't quite prepared for the rude flint knife that jabbed her in the nose. Or the troop of squat, skinny-limbed creatures that came rushing out of the bushes at her. 

"Guys! Imps!" she yelled, smacking one that poked her in the knees hard with her rod, sending it flying into two of its comrades. The other Guardians quickly joined in the fray. A bolt of lightning that she assumed was Bahamut's work fried one of the midget forest bandits. Ifrit literally kicked them away. Even Carbuncle was in the midst of the battle, swiping at the imps with her racket. 

Shiva had just started wondering about where Cid had gotten to when the ground started trembling. 

*** 

_10.00 a.m. _

Attacked by group of vicious imps. Had to climb trees to avoid Chocobo stampede. Aforementioned imps got trampled flat within two seconds. Poor buggers didn't stand a chance. Must have a talk with that kid about his hair-trigger summoning. 

*** 

Shiva tried very hard not to look at the ground. "Cid," she began, as calmly as she could manage, "those were _imps_. The weakest monster known in the Worlds. You really didn't need to call the Chocobo calvary to the rescue." 

Cid, on his part, was trying very, very hard not to look down and to avoid Shiva's gaze at the same time. "I know," he said in a very small voice. "It's just that I kinda get carried away." 

"Two or three Chocobos, carried away, sure. But one whole stampeding herd at once?" 

Cid gave her a meek, sheepish look. 

Shiva sighed. "You have quite a bit of power, I'll give you that. But you really need to learn how to control it." She shrugged. "Time for some magic lessons, then." 

*** 

_Journal Entry 9, Local Date 19th of Tetra, 1306 _

4.00 p.m.   
Finally reached a village. Name of Sartel. Not very big, but at least there's an inn. Come to think of it, never seen a village, no matter how small and isolated, that hasn't got accommodation for travelers. One of the peculiarities of the Worlds of Fantasy, I suppose.   
Village hasn't got much to offer, but at least we get hot baths. We really needed them. Especially Ifrit. He stinks.   
**I DO NOT!**   
_Oh, yes you do. Take a bath. Water doesn't hurt, you big baby._   
**I'm FIRE elemental! Water hurts me!**   
_Well, not when you're in human form! And stop writing in my journal. Get your own diary to scribble in. _   
**Fine!**

*~*~*~*~*~* 

_A/N: Whew! I'm one tardy writer, aren't I? I really, really have a good excuse this time. Exams. There. This was a little short, and probably rather pointless, but please bear with me. I should have Chapter 5 out by next week. I'll try anyway.   
Oh, and please, please, pretty please review. Please? Flames will be replied in kind._ ^.^ 


	5. Close Encounters of the Spoony Kind

_See Chapter 1. =P_

*~*~*~*~*~*~* 

_5 - Close Encounters of the Spoony Kind_

It was morning. Sunlight filtered through the fluffy white clouds in golden rays. Five travelers, rejuvenated from hot meals and a warm soft bed (and baths too) the night before exited the inn in a grumpy mood. Ignoring all protests, ("It's _Sunday_! The interdimensional day of rest!" "We've been walking for five days non-stop!" "My feet hurt.") Bahamut dragged his four baleful companions out for a long walk. Long, as in, say, the distance to the next town on their way north. 

Cid had to admit, albeit grudgingly, that it was a wonderful day for travelling. The weather promised to stay fair for the rest of the day, the bard was singing sweetly- Bard? Oh, of course, it was Sunday. It was some sort of custom, one very well accepted, that almost no-one worked on a Sunday except for anyone in the entertainment business. Small farming villages didn't have very much in the way of entertainment, so the local bard probably was having a really big audience. 

Cid felt himself drawn towards the music. The high, sweet notes of the harp and its player's voice seemed to call out to him. Almost unconsciously, he turned his feet towards the source of the music. 

The village square was crowded. It seemed as if the whole village was packed into that little piece of land. Right in the centre of the crowd, seated on the edge of the fountain, was a vision of loveliness. Long, feathery green-gold hair framed a perfectly-featured face. Set into that perfect face were two pools of blue, brighter than the summer sky, more beautiful than any jewels . Her voice rang like silver bells. The way she strummed the harp, playing an accompaniment to her singing, seemed exceptionally graceful. Cid didn't recognize the song - a romantic one, by the sound of it - but that was unimportant to him. He was completely mesmerized. 

"Cid! There you are! You really shouldn't be wandering off like that, we almost left you behind," called Carbuncle, pushing through the crowd. "Good thing If- Garreth," she hastily corrected herself, remembering that she was in the middle of a crowd, "noticed that you were missing-" Carbuncle broke off when she noticed that Cid wasn't listening to her. 

"Cid?" she called, reaching up and tapping him on the shoulder. "Cid!" She marched around to his front. He looked as if he had been hypnotized, staring at something over the heads of the crowd. She tried to follow his gaze, and got an eyeful of the back of someone's shirt. For once, Carbuncle wished she'd taken a taller form. Looking like a pre-pubescent teen had its drawbacks. She sighed. "Hello?" she called, snapping her fingers in Cid's face. Still no response. Well, _fine_. She'd just take more drastic measures, then. 

She stomped hard on his toes. 

Cid yelped and jumped two feet into the air. "Wha- Carbuncle! What did you do that for?" he asked crossly, rubbing his sore foot. 

Carbuncle didn't quite have a chance to answer, because, at that moment, the rest of the Guardians came up, shoving their way through the crowd. 

"Oh, there you both are. Enjoying the music, are you?" said Bahamut sarcastically. 

"Look, I just came to look for him!" retorted Carbuncle. "It was only a little while, anyway. What are you so cross about?" 

Bahamut tried to look a little less angry. "Not at you. Listen." 

Carbuncle frowned, but did as he said. Her eyes widened. Had she been eating, she would surely have choked. 

"Exactly," said Bahamut. He elbowed his way forward. The bard was immersed enough in her music to not notice his approach until he cleared his throat loudly. She looked up, gasped, and stood up hurriedly, almost knocking Bahamut over in her haste. She sketched a shallow bow, clutching her harp to her chest. 

"Greetings, milord," mumbled Siren. 

*** 

It took Siren two hours and numerous encores to get rid of her villageful of adoring fans. Then, all five Guardians and one Summoner piled into the village tavern. Even then, the barkeeper insisted that Siren play once, which she obligingly did. Music was Siren's life. It was ironic, because Siren's powers lay in her ability to Silence anything at a snap of her fingers; or rather, at a strum of her harp. 

They had a little chat over mugs of ale, mead and unturned cider (Carbuncle was the kind of person that started feeling woozy with one whiff of alcohol fumes and Cid was not old enough to get drunk legally). The chat, of course, had much to do with Siren's presence on Impiana. 

"I thought a little vacation was in order," explained Siren, taking a sip of her spiced mead. "After all, I've been on call for the past eight hundred years or so. Sartel's a nice place to relax and practice on my harp, don't you think?" she asked with an offhand smile, gesturing lazily at the harp that sat on her lap. 

Bahamut couldn't really find anything wrong with her explanation, except for the fact that it was a little on the thin side. "Do you know _anything_ about the fact that nobody can summon any of the Guardians?" he asked. 

Siren looked suitably surprised. "I, well, no. Doesn't that mean that either everybody's learnt how to resist calling or that nobody's home?" She was avoiding his eyes, though. Or was it his imagination? 

"So, how goes the search for the Crest?" Siren asked. That was a quick change of subject. Either that or Bahamut was letting his suspicions get the better of him. 

He shrugged. "Badly. We've no idea where it is." For the first time, he realized something. Something vital was missing. Something he had depended on. _I have no idea where it is._ "I can't sense that thing anymore!" 

Shiva sat up. "Lack of powers, maybe?" she suggested. 

"...Maybe," said Bahamut weakly. "I don't know. I did sense the Crest just fine on homeworld, but I didn't notice when I stopped feeling it...." 

"And you wanted to go alone," snorted Ifrit under his breath. 

Shiva kicked him under the table. "Being a little more sensitive won't hurt, you know," she muttered to him. 

"Oh, but it will. Whatever will happen to my macho image?" he whispered back. 

Shiva didn't know whether to laugh or whack him over the head. In the end, she settled for ignoring him. 

"It's okay, really," said Cid thoughtfully. "We were going to do it the old-fashioned way anyway, weren't we? I mean, you did want to question that dragon they caught in Snowfields, didn't you?" 

Bahamut wondered when he had started acting without thinking. "You're right," he said slowly. "This only makes it just a little bit more difficult. It's not impossible...." 

"And in any case," said Siren, "we can always post our people around the portal zones. There was one upstream from Syhir, wasn't there?" 

Bahamut agreed. Then a thought struck him. "How are you going to contact them, Siren?" he asked with a frown. 

Siren decided not to say anything. Instead, she suddenly became very interested in scrutinizing the contents of her mug. Bahamut eyed her suspiciously. 

"Say, shouldn't we be going? Look at the time!" said Ifrit loudly to break the tension. 

Bahamut looked. All morning and most of the afternoon were already gone. They couldn't have spent all day here. Or could they? He sighed. "It's a bit too late to set out already. We'll just have to leave early the next morning." 

Cid and Carbuncle high-fived behind his back. 

"Why don't I just go tell the innkeeper that you're staying tonight after all?" said Siren breezily. She hastily put down her mug and collected her harp. Halfway to the door, she paused. "Ah... Bahamut?" 

"Yes?" 

"How did you know it was me in the square?" 

"I recognized the song you were singing." 

"It's popular, you know." 

"I really don't think 'Eyes on Me' made it to Impiana, Siren," he said dryly. 

Siren blushed sheepishly and fled. 

*~*~*~*~*~*~* 

_Look! I'm three weeks off schedule! I'd give another long, rambling excuse, but I don't think anyone cares. Whatever....   
Oh, and please review. Please? *puppy dog eyes* _


End file.
